Die Laughing (5 page)

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Authors: Carola Dunn

BOOK: Die Laughing
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T
he kitchen door opened. Daisy looked round in considerable relief, which redoubled when she saw Alec. She jumped up, and would have run to hug him except that one simply didn't hug in public. Especially in someone else's kitchen with servants looking on.
“Darling!”
“Daisy! I thought you'd gone home.”
“Not quite,” said Daisy, hoping she didn't look frightfully guilty. “Sergeant Mackinnon did say I could leave, but I absolutely had to speak to Mrs. Talmadge. She's a neighbour and an acquaintance, after all. Besides,” she added, being now close enough to hiss in his ear, “I rather dreaded having to explain things to your mother. Hello, Mr. Tring.”
Tom Tring grinned at her. Reminded of his presence, and Sergeant Mackinnon behind him, Alec closed his mouth on whatever expression of sympathy, or blistering reproof, he had been about to utter.
“I see,” he said forebodingly, looking beyond her to the two women at the table.
“Alec, these are Nurse Hensted and Miss Kidd, Mrs. Talmadge's maid. I expect you both recognize my husband, Chief Inspector Fletcher. Miss Hensted was with me and Mrs. Talmadge when we discovered … him. Which of us do you want to talk to first?”
“Mrs. Talmadge,” Alec said.
“Oh, darling, I'm afraid you can't. Dr. Curtis was here a moment ago. He's given Mrs. Talmadge a sedative. Actually, he wants someone with her at all times. Miss Hensted and Hilda have been … discussing who should go up first.”
The nurse stood up, tight-lipped. “I'm sure you'll agree, sir, Mrs. Talmadge will obviously need more professional care during the day than at night, when she's sleeping natural. She will do for the night watch, but I must go to her now. She needs someone competent.”
“Don't make me laugh!” cried Hilda Kidd. “Haven't I looked after her through thick and thin since she was a tot? She don't hardly know you, and you're nothing but a fancy receptionist. Call yourself a nurse, ha-ha.”
Miss Hensted's fists clenched and she leant forward, red with fury. “Don't you laugh at me, you sanctimonious old bitch! If my patient was to wake up and see your sour face—”
“Enough!” Alec snapped. “Miss Kidd, you go up to your mistress now.” The nurse subsided, but Hilda's triumph was short-lived. “Miss Hensted will take over from you when I've asked her a few questions. What other servants are there?”
“There's Gladys, the housemaid, sir. It's Cook's day off. Mrs. Thorpe, she is.”
“Gardener? Chauffeur?”
“Just a jobbing gardener comes twice a week. Not today.”
“Thank you. Send the housemaid along, please, then you may go up to Mrs. Talmadge.”
“And mind you observe Dr. Curtis's directions,” said Miss Hensted. “I'll be up to relieve you shortly.”
With a glare at the nurse, Hilda took herself off.
“Tom, you'll see Gladys when she arrives,” Alec said. Tom, despite his devotion to his equally mountainous wife, had a way with female servants. “Not in here, I think. Take her somewhere else.” Daisy expected to be sent out also, but he ignored her and went on, “Mackinnon, take notes, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Mackinnon already had his notebook in his hand—Daisy assumed he had just reported his findings so far to Alec—but he fumbled for a sharpened pencil. Where was Piper with his ever-ready supply? she wondered.
“Miss Hensted, may I have your full name and address, please?”
“Brenda Mabel Hensted. I have a room in Marylebone.” She gave the street and number. With Hilda's departure, she had quite recovered her cool, professional demeanour.
“And your position in the household? This is for official purposes, you understand.”
“I'm not part of the household, not really, sir. I work … worked for Mr. Talmadge in his practice, as nurse and whatever else he needed. I'm a Registered Nurse, but I don't care for hospital work, you see, having been in a military hospital all through the War. Though come to that, hospital's a sight better than being at an invalid's beck and call! Most dentists don't employ a Registered Nurse, but Mr. Talmadge had a high-class practice—people like yourself and
Mrs. Fletcher—and what with giving the patients gas and doing all the latest procedures—”
“Yes, thank you. How long have you been here?”
“Three years come the fifth of May.”
“You liked the position, I assume. Nurses can always find a job.”
“Oh yes, it was smashing. At least, it was till I realized Mr. Talmadge was …” She hesitated. “I realized he was using the nitrous oxide himself. It's ever so dangerous, using it regularly, like he did. You can damage your brain, you know.”
“Do you think Talmadge had damaged his brain?”
“I wouldn't like to say. You'd have to ask a doctor. Not so you'd notice normally, but maybe enough to make him careless. It would explain this accident, wouldn't it?”
“Ah yes, you told Sergeant Mackinnon you were sure his death was an accident. Could you explain just how that could happen?”
“I've been thinking, and there's two ways it might happen. Maybe he just forgot to switch on the oxygen. You have to breathe oxygen along with the laughing gas, you know. Or maybe he was just going to take a quick whiff, so he didn't bother with the oxygen, and then he breathed deeper than he meant to and got too happy to care.”
“I see. You don't think it could have been suicide, as Mrs. Talmadge assumed?”
“Not likely,” said Miss Hensted scornfully. “She thought he was upset because of her carrying on with that Lord Henry Creighton, but I can tell you, he didn't mind. You've got to care for someone a lot before you mind about stuff like that. He didn't care two pins for
her
.”
“For whom, then?” Alec enquired.
The nurse laughed unconvincingly. “I'm sure I don't know. Nobody, I suppose.”
“Lord Henry Creighton …”
“All I know about
him
is what that Hilda's let drop. You'll have to ask her about him.”
“I shall. You left the surgery at twelve forty-five, I think Sergeant Mackinnon said?”
“That's right, sir,” the sergeant confirmed.
“Yes. I went to the ABC in the High Street for a bite to eat, same as usual. I got back a bit late, about ten past two. In a bit of a fluster I was, after rushing. Mrs. Fletcher was already waiting.”
“Thank you, Miss Hensted, you've been most helpful. I may need to see you again, but you'd better go and see to Mrs. Talmadge now. Send Miss Kidd down, will you? Tell her to find Sergeant Tring, who'll have some questions for her.”
Miss Hensted left, looking smug, which Daisy put down to her having been interviewed by a chief inspector while Hilda Kidd was going to have to make do with a mere sergeant.
“Right-oh, Daisy, your turn. You had an appointment to see Talmadge.”
“Yes, at two o'clock. I had a toothache,” Daisy explained for the record, as though her tossing and turning with pain had not kept him awake at night until he insisted that she see a dentist. “I arrived on time. The waiting-room door was unlocked so I went in, but no one was there.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“From the surgery? No, not a whisper. Of course, I didn't listen at the door,” she said regretfully. Had Tom
Tring or Piper been taking notes, instead of Mackinnon, she might have confessed that her tooth had stopped hurting and she'd nearly turned tail. Instead, she simply described what had happened and how her suspicions had been aroused.
“Mrs. Talmadge was first into the surgery?” Alec asked. “I somehow had the impression it was the nurse. You're sure of that?”
“Quite sure. It was natural for her to lead the way in her own house, looking for her husband. Now I come to think of it, though, I was a bit surprised, when we found him, that she hadn't asked me to wait in the hall.”
“Why?”
“Well, she obviously didn't want me to see him indulging in his secret vice. It wouldn't have done his reputation any good if I'd talked about it. I suppose it was wishful thinking: she wanted to believe he'd just gone through to the surgery a bit late.”
“She told you she knew about his habit?”
“Yes. No, actually, I don't think she did.” Try as she might, Daisy couldn't actually remember where the impression had come from. “Anyway, when she saw him, her immediate reaction was to block my view.”
“And then, you say, she realized he was dead and claimed he had killed himself.”
“‘Claimed' is much too restrained a word. She fell into strong hysterics. Thank heaven the nurse was there to take charge.”
“What happened exactly?”
Daisy put almost as much effort into picturing the scene as she had previously put into evading the memory. “Miss
Hensted slapped her face. No, first she—the nurse—turned off the gas and turned on the oxygen. She said something about knowing he'd make a mess of it sooner or later. Then she felt his wrist. Oh, I'd already done that. She said pure oxygen was the antidote but it was too late and that's when Mrs. Talmadge had hysterics and Nurse Hensted hustled her away.”
“And you left with them?”
“I looked around. I didn't touch anything, and I put on a glove to close and lock the door and take the key, because I suspected he'd been murdered.” Daisy suddenly felt as cold and clammy all over as his skin had felt to her probing fingers.
“Sorry, love!” Alec sprang to her side. “Here, put your head down on the table for a moment.”
“I must be out of practice,” she mumbled feebly.
“You'd better have some tea, with plenty of sugar.” He reached for the pot. “Damn, it's cold.”
DS Mackinnon appeared on her other side, wielding a bottle. “Cooking sherry?” he offered. “It's all I can find.”
“Ugh,” said Daisy, who wasn't frightfully keen on even the best sherry.
However, Alec poured a dollop into the clean kitchen cup that Mackinnon produced, so she sipped it. It was just about as disgusting as she expected, but it did warm her.
“I'm all right,” she said after a few more sips, pushing the cup away. “Thank you, Sergeant. But Nurse Hensted says alcohol for shock is outdated.”
“It seems to have worked,” Alec pointed out. “Are you able to go on?”
“Yes, darling, and I've told you every tiniest detail about
the surgery, so we can drop the subject. After I spoke to Sergeant Mackinnon, I went up to see Daphne—Mrs. Talmadge.”
Alec's dark eyebrows met over steel grey eyes, but after casting a glance at Mackinnon, he didn't tell her she was a meddlesome wretch.
As if he had, she excused herself. “The Talmadges are neighbours, after all, as your mother reminded me before I came. I couldn't just walk out without a word.”
“Hmm.”
“She repeated, more calmly, that her husband must have committed suicide. She told me he'd been depressed because he couldn't afford to buy into a Harley Street practice, but I must say, she didn't say it as if she believed it. Lord Henry Creighton is a much more likely reason, but I can't tell you about him because it's just hearsay, and anyway, Talmadge didn't commit suicide, did he?” Daisy said, fixing Alec with what he persisted in calling her “misleadingly guileless” blue eyes.
“No, he was killed all right,” he answered incautiously.
“Then I was right!”
“Dash it, Daisy, I shouldn't have—”
“Don't worry, darling, it's perfectly obvious. You wouldn't be here asking me all these questions if it wasn't murder.” From the corner of her eye, she noticed Mackinnon biting his lip. She could only hope he would prove as discreet as Ernie Piper as to how much he wrote down in his official notebook. She smiled at him, and went on, “It was Hilda Kidd who talked about Lord Henry, so you'll have to ask her, until Daphne is fit to be interviewed.”
“Mackinnon, go and find Sergeant Tring and tell him to ask the parlourmaid about Lord Henry Creighton.”
“And he'd better ask what she meant by ‘What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.'”
Mackinnon looked to Alec, who shrugged and nodded. “He'd better 'phone the Yard, too, and get hold of DC Piper, or leave him a message. Tell him to find out where Creighton lives and ring back.” Alec waited till the door closed, then said, “Off the record, because I shouldn't be sharing speculations with a witness, am I to take it that Mrs. Talmadge was having an affair with Creighton?”
“Quite likely. He was an old flame. Hilda said Daphne would meet him in town for lunch and a show, how often I don't know.”

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